


Demon in Me

by AriMarris



Category: APH - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Hetalia: World Series
Genre: Attempted Murder, Dark, M/M, Murder, Snapped!Canada, Suicide, Violence, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriMarris/pseuds/AriMarris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he wants is to be known. And today, he will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demon in Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a DARK CANADA story. It contains murder, blood, and also a bit (a lot) of PruCan. If you do not like gore, or yaoi, please don't continue... 
> 
> Warnings:   
> PruCan, (slight) AmeCan, (slight) USUK, (slight) Fruk, (slight) Rochu, (slight/onesided) RusCan, Murder, Suicide, Major Character Death, Blood, HRE/Germany Theory, Language
> 
> Enjoy reading!

It was strange, Canada thought, that there would be such a beautiful sight on such an evening. The beautiful sun, sinking into the dark earth, thousands of shades of reds smeared across the sky. The most prominent was his favorite. Fitting, he thought, as the crimson colors dripped from the sky, dripping onto the horizon.

"Are you ready?" Prussia dropped down beside Canada, his hands finding their way around his waist. Canada leaned against the Albino affectionately. "Isn't the sunset perfect?"

Canada shivered as a warm pair of lips found his neck. "Are you ready to be seen? Are you ready to be known?" As he nodded, rather numbly, Canada couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of regret. But it disappeared faster than the scarlet that was now rapidly fading from the sky. "Come."

Canada felt numb as Prussia raised him to his feet, and dragged him through the halls of the conference building.

"Are you… Are you sure?" Canada asked. Yes, he wanted this. But would his desire to be known allow him to go this far? A short kiss from Prussia seemed to erase all doubt from his mind. "Let's go than."

Prussia smiled darkly and thrust something cold and silver into Canada's waiting hands.

"After this, we will be together. Always."

"Mhhmm…" Canada hummed, and looked up at his companion. "Who is first?"

His question was answered not a moment later.

"America! I need to talk to-"

Canada could not keep the growl from tearing through his throat at the name that belongs to that stupid, idiotic asshole of a brother.

"America? What are you doing with Pr-"

He was cut off. In one swift motion, Prussia brought the barrel of his own gun down on England's head. England's eyes rolled back as he blacked out at slumped against the wall.

Prussia dropped to his knees beside England, pushing him into an upward position against the wall. With a dark smile, he leaned in closely and brushed his hand through England's hair as a satisfactory bump began to form. Only a moment later, England's eyes began to flutter open. Though dazed for a minute, his eyes widened when he realized his predicament.

"So England, do you see what it's like?" He was answered with a glare. Prussia cocked his gun, grinning madly. England gasped as the cool metal pressed against his jaw. "How does it feel to fear for your life?" Prussia whispered heatedly into his ear.

"Get it over with," Canada muttered, just a little bit loudly from England's other side. Prussia laughed loudly, and pulled him down so the two were on either side of England.

"Say, England I want to introduce you to someone." England stared at the two in confusion. Who else? It was just America playing some violent rude game, right?

"This isn't funny, America, Prussia," England all but growled, struggling to stand and fight, despite his remaining weariness from the initial hit.

"You're right. It isn't." And, leaning over, Prussia captured Canada's lips with his own. Canada replied to the kiss eagerly, no matter how much he wanted to get this over with. To just see that amazing, beautiful color stain everything in sight… Breaking away, he opened his eyes and looked directly into Prussia's. The beautiful, red orbs took in his flushed face and swollen lips with a smirk. "So, darling, you want to tell him who you are?"

Canada stared down at the man that had once ruled his life. He had been like a "Father" for a short amount of time… but after independence, he was forgotten. Always forgotten. Prussia moved to the side, his gun never leaving England's jaw. Canada moved forward so he was sitting in the English mans lap. For a moment he didn't say anything.

"No." He finally said. Prussia said nothing to this, he watched in silence. "I want him to tell me who I am. So England… Who am I?"

England gulped, trying to ignore the metal that pushed harder against his neck. He forced himself to look up at the man. Instantly, America's face swam into view. His throat seized in fear as the gun gave a very threatening 'click' which promised much more. Violet eyes. A certain curl in the hair. A flushed, eager face.

It was faint, quiet, and barely heard with the sound of the gun that soon followed. But Canada heard it. A smile slid onto his face, though his hands had begun to shake. England died with his face in his mind. He was the last thing England saw. He was the last thing England remembered. His name was the last sound that escaped his mouth before the deadly bullet ended his life.

"Hehehe…" Canada's laugh started softly. His eyes were completely transfixed on the mess in front of him. "Oh maple… You actually killed him…"

His laugh slowly got louder… He raised shaky fingers, and ran his fingertips across the bloody wall. Slowly, as his hands got even more blood stained, words began to form on the wall.

REMEMBER ME

His hands dropped into his lap, and he stared at them stunned. That was the first time… never before had he seen someone killed right in front of him… It was striking… the site… gorgeous. Gory. Perfect. This was the way it should be.

A warm hand wrapped around his wrist. Canada stared at Prussia intently as Prussia began to lick off Canada's fingers. Scarlet liquid dripped onto his lips, down his chin…

"No, Darling. We killed him. We got our revenge." With that said, he pulled Canada into a long, hot kiss.

Canada tasted England's blood on his lips, on his tongue. It blended in with Prussia's natural taste… heavenly… Canada brought his hands down to hold onto Prussia's face, no doubt leaving large smears of blood… Canada felt himself pushed against the wall possessively, his hands slowly moving into Prussia's hair, as the older man's hands traveled down to his hips.

"Get away from my brother, you creep!" Prussia was suddenly pushed back, and the two broke contact.

"Revenge is sweet," was the last thing Canada heard as Prussia slid away, to watch from a distance.

"He killed England, didn't he? Are you okay? Canada! Talk to me!" America was yelling frantically. It was sure to bring a lot of attention to the hall… But Canada only stared blankly at his concerned brother.

"So what?" He muttered, America almost didn't hear.

"What did you say?" America asked, staring Canada right in the eye. And for once, Canada stared straight back.

"So what is Prussia killed him?" Canada gave a little giggle, causing his brothers concern to grow. "So what? He got what he deserved."

"Canada! Are you okay? My god…" America didn't quite know what happened next. It only took one second. A sharp dagger appeared in Canada's hands. Canada jumped forward, embedding the dagger into America's stomach. Almost instantly, warm blood began to flow through the wound, staining Canada's clothes as he pressed himself against his brother. Warm hands closed around his own, as if begging him to stop, but instead he quickly twisted it. Canada watched him struggle to keep back his obvious pain. Hero's didn't feel pain. Hero's never lost. But, Canada thought, America wasn't a hero. He never had been.

He looked down at his pitiful "Hero" of a brother. Violet eyes met azure. He knew his brother was scanning his face for some form of regret or anything really. He wouldn't find any. Canada's face had long been set into a cold and uncaring model. Formed by a beautiful albino's graceful, skilled hands… The change had gone much deeper than just his face, or his actions… What once would have been regret flooding through his body was now a powerful adrenaline. To kill… To see his brother in all but blood dying at his hands… Hands not yet completely bloodstained, instead fresh to the idea of murder… and completely loving it.

Pulling the knife from his dying brother's body, and stepped back, admiring his work. Then, without warning, aimed a powerful kick at his side. Unable to support himself with his already lack of blood, America collapsed onto the ground. A pool of blood began to gather at his side… Still, he struggled to stand, only succeeding in leaning against the wall, breathing deeply and clutching his wound. Then an estranged, weak voice, that was certainly not his brothers, but pleased him more than anything, croaked, "Why?"

Canada watched his brother struggle on the floor for a moment. He raised his foot, then rested it softly on America's elbow.

"It is simply because I hate you." The loathing was clear in his voice. Did he always hate him…? Memories flashed before his eyes… They always like America better… He placed the tiniest bit of pressure on America's arm, but America winced. "I have always hated you. Even after your gone, and our legacies live on, I will always hate you."

A loud CRACK rang through the air as Canada's foot came down full force on America's arm. America couldn't hold back the strangled cry that escaped his throat.

"You don't know. You have no idea how I feel! I'm never seen! I don't EXIST in other people's eyes. But you know what, its fine now. I'll be remembered… I'll be known when you guys are gone."

"By whom, Matthew," America choked out, along with splotches of blood that dribbled down his chin. In anger, Canada smashed down on America's elbow. Another cry. More blood.

"Don't you dare use my name!" He hissed, "You have no right!"

America could do nothing more that glower at his brother. His watery eyes ruined the effect… He couldn't even support himself…

"So you're going to kill me? Kill me? At least I notice you!"

"You only notice me when it will be beneficial to you. It's your fault I'm overlooked anyway. All they see is the amazing and powerful America… It they saw you now, the all-powerful nation, lying at his brothers feet, soon to be dead by Canada's hands… What would they think?"

"Well said…" Prussia reappeared from the shadows. "That is why, my little Mattie, I love you."

Canada grinned a little bit as Prussia wrapped his arms around Canada's waist and rested his head on his shoulder.

"You! You did something to him… What did you do to Matthew," America attempted to sit up, with his good arm.

Canada kicked him in the jaw. He slumped back to the ground.

"It doesn't take much. With how everyone treats us, of course we want revenge…"

"It isn't right," America insisted. His voice was worse than before. Canada must have broken his jaw.

"Finish him?" Prussia whispered into Canada's ear. Canada nodded coldly. Prussia grinned… "In fact, you might as well give him a little good bye kiss. I won't get jealous, so don't worry."

Canada once again dropped to the ground, straddling America with a cold smirk. Canada leapt forward for a small, short kiss, tasting the blood on his lips, and licking his lips seductively so that both America and Prussia could see. Lifting the dagger above his head, he thrust the piece of metal into his brother's chest. Then he swooped down and stole a longer, more dangerous, passionate kiss. He leant back, pulled out the dagger, and observed his work. America wouldn't be alive much longer.

"Bonne Nuit, Brother." The words were cold as the night air.

And thus, the Hero lost.

Peeking up at the window from beneath his bloodstained hair, he saw that the sun had completely slipped away, leaving darkness behind it.

The couple stood in silence for a moment, staring at the beauty that was night.

"I killed him…" Canada said, barely above a whisper. "I killed my brother."

Prussia smirked, sliding up beside him. "And…?"

Canada knew he was shaking, but it wasn't in shock, or even fear…

"I feel powerful… I ended someone's life…" Canada closed his eyes, leaning back onto Prussia. "I don't know who I am anymore… I have blood on my hands… and yet… I never felt more…"

"Alive?" Prussia supplied. Canada nodded.

"Alive."

\-----------------------------------

The two made their way from the scene of the crime, down the hallway. Prussia laughed loudly, his arm wrapped carelessly around Canada's waist. Carelessly, yet at the same time, possessively. Canada just walked with him, smiling and staring at the drying red on his hands and clothes.

Prussia stopped at the end of the hallway, turning back with a wide smirk.

"Now isn't that how it should be?" He asked Canada in a whisper. Canada just gazed at the scene before him. "Beautiful?"

Prussia, who had claimed to have had little action, decided to have some "fun" before the duo had continued on their mission. So he had taken a moment to "create art". Canada had to agree, it was beautiful. Prussia had a very interesting, dark idea of art. Canada loved it.

What was once simply the murdered bodies of England and America was now, in thec ouples opinions, art. The two bodies were tangled in a gory embrace, cold lips pressed together. White skin. Red Blood. A large bloody maple leaf covered the wall.

"Perfect," Canada said, turning around to face Prussia. His heart was pounding. He reached up and ran his fingers across Prussia's face. "Thank you."

"Anything for my Mattie," Prussia said, kissing him on the forehead. "Let's go."

Prussia grabbed his arm, and casting one last look at his art, pulled Canada out of the hallway. Despite their situation, they walked casually. If they encountered anyone, that person will die. There was no other option.

The halls were silent. It had been quite a while… Nobody had come after them. At least not yet.

But soon… Canada licked his lips in anticipation. Soon the place would be swarming with countries awaiting their murder.

"Eeh-!"Canada gasped as he was suddenly grabbed and dragged into a room. He was almost blinded by the contrast of brightness from the darker hallways, but didn't have much time to think about it.

He heard the door behind him click closed as he was pushed roughly against it. As soon as Canada gathered what was happening, he returned Prussia's heated kiss.

"If– No – One…" Prussia panted, breaking away from Canada's mouth and turning to the younger boys jaw and collarbone, "Is –Coming… Let's have some fun?"

Canada found this plan quite agreeable… Taking the Canadian's silence as a yes, Prussia returned to the boy's neck. Seconds…minutes… hours passed? Canada couldn't think properly… but he wanted SOMETHING, anything to happen… He needed blood shed… there wasn't enough blood…

"Gilbert…"Canada said it so softly, Prussia stopped and looked at him, smirking at the obvious effect he had on him. "I want… pain… blood."

Gilbert's smile, if possible, grew. He reached into a pocket, and withdrew a small pocketknife.

"You sure, Mattie?" Prussia asked. There was no reply. Just cold violet eyes gazed at him. "Have it your way than."

Prussia pulled the nation closer to him in another kiss. But this time… a streak of pain shot down his back. And then another one… He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Warmth covered his back. The liquid soaked through his clothes.

When the knife came back for the third time, Canada couldn't hold back. Digging his nails into Prussia's shoulders, he let out a loud cry of pleasure and threw his head back. Prussia paused, almost teasingly.

"Is…Mattie alright?" He asked mockingly. "Does it hurt…?"

"It does…! It does!" Canada practically growled.

"Then maybe we should stop…" Prussia purred against his throat.

"No!" Prussia almost flinched as the boy's nails drew blood. "I want it!"

So Prussia complied. The boy's shirt was in ribbons and his chest and back laced with small, nonlife threatening cuts.

"GET YOUR HANDS OF MATTHIEU!"

The loud demand broke them out of their actions as a door swung open on the other side of the room.

Swearing under his breath in German, Prussia turned away from his lover, to the obnoxious Frenchman. "Francis, Antonio."

"G-Gilbert?"Both men stared at their best friend, covered in blood, in shock. France was the first to recover, stepping forward, a gun held cautiously. He kept his eyes locked on the pair. His poor Matthieu… "Mon Cherie?"

Canada looked up, staring directly into France's eyes for the first time in years. The word tumbled out of his mouth before he could help it. "P-papa…"

France continued forward, never lowering his guard. Spain still stood frozen in astonishment. Canada couldn't have backed away if he wanted to, due to being pressed against the wall. Instead, he took a step forward, standing in front of Prussia. France was speaking softly to him, in probably what was supposed to be 'Comforting'. He obviously thought Prussia had attacked him.

"Mon Cherie, are you alright? It'll be okay…" France eyed the knife in Prussia's hand, and the torn shirt Canada wore. The small lacerations… "Sorry we weren't here faster. H-He killed Angleterre and Amerique. They're dead…" For the first time, Canada noticed France's eyes were slightly red, puffy. As if he had been crying. His voice shook, "He won't hurt you anymore."

"Now why would I hurt my Matthew…?" Prussia mocked, placing his hands on Canada's hips. France froze in his advances. Canada said nothing, just kept staring at France. France… France left him too, didn't he… He did… long ago… he doesn't care anymore…

"Don't think you'll get away with this," France threatened. Canada broke his gaze from France. He didn't want to look into those eyes anymore. They were full of lies. He was only distantly aware of Prussia snapping something back at France. He had suddenly found the room they were in very interesting…France shot something back at Prussia. They were in the room of world history…Ancient war artifacts… Fitting…

Canada was sucked back into "reality" when Prussia pulled him into a tight embrace. He nearly screamed as his wounds burned at the contact.

"I don't think he wants me to let go," Prussia purred, causing the pain to turn into pleasure and a shiver to run down Canada's back. France took it as fright and hurt, and his resolve seemed to harden.

"Let Matthieu go."

"No."

Canada felt something cold in his hands, and his arm rose. But he was not the one controlling it. Prussia was, with his larger hand wrapped around Canada's, guiding his finger to the trigger.

Canada didn't want France to die like this. No way… Not this easily…

"Prussia… It's… Papa… I can't…" Canada was staring at France with wide eyes. A plan… He had a plan…

Countries had begun to trickle into the room, and they stood on the sidelines, observing. Canada didn't think anyone else had noticed… But he did. And he noticed their looks. They were watching him, no doubt wondering who he was.

But, nonetheless, he was seen.

It was the blood, without a doubt.

Like paint being thrown over something invisible.

Suddenly, Canada pushed himself away from Prussia, barely catching the look of shock and betrayal, and launched himself into France's arms. Without taking the guns aim off of Prussia, France wrapped his free arm around Canada protectively. Gently… Next to no pressure was applied to his wounds.

"Matthieu…" France muttered sounding almost… relieved. Canada nodded, and dug his face into France's shoulder, hiding a cruel smirk from anyone watching. And no one saw it. Poor, pitiful souls.

"I want to go," Canada's voice was muffled. He pushed lightly on France. "Now."

"Of course…"

France turned, looking towards the still frozen Spain, indicating him to take care of an equally frozen Prussia. But neither moved, and the countries just watched in disbelief and shock.

Mistake one…

France had turned away, leaving him completely defenceless, and revealing Canada's large smirk to the world. No one could quite process what was happening.

Not even France, as he was suddenly pushed onto wooden block, looking up into Canada's wild eyes. A rusted silver metal blade was held above them, ready to fall at any moment. A guillotine… The very weapon he had created.

He could do nothing as his 'son' held him down with a strange amount of strength, sitting on his chest looking like an innocent, curious child.

"P-papa… Papa… Papa never loved me…" Canada seemed to be talking more to himself, than anyone else. "Papa never cared. Papa only wants me because now he's scared." He chanted this over and over, his eyes narrowed into slits. France's eyes widened. "England and Brother are gone! And now Papa doesn't want to lose me." At this he let out a mad laugh, throwing his head back. "But Papa didn't try to see me…"

Canada hissed out the last part, his eyes wild as he roamed over his father's face. His father's fear.

"Papa! Time to die!"

Canada watched the guillotine blade fall with uncontained glee, laughing darkly as the rusted blade embedded itself in the elder Nation's neck. The Frenchman couldn't even utter any type of cry. He was just… gone.

Canada eagerly lifted the blade, revelling in the sight of France's gory, mutilated neck. Clean slice, only about halfway through… Damn rusty blade…

No one could move. After everything they had been through as individual countries, as a whole world, they had never been through anything like this. A snapped country… No country had actually tried to kill another before, had they? Conquer, yes… Kill, no… It was supposed to be impossible…

And after watching that scene, there was no way possible that the four of them (five if you include the motionless Spain) could bring down the two insane nations.

Canada reached up and caressed France's unmoving face, and letting the blood cover and drip off his fingertips.

"Désole, Papa," Canada murmured, taking a deep breath and leaning back. He licked his fingers, tasting the blood. "But you are the one to forget and forgive, oui? Unfortunately, that's just not me."

Canada crawled off France, and instantly set his sights on the others, his hands carefully fingering the gun he had pulled out of his Father's limp fingers. He took a few steps forward, his narrowed eyes raking over the multiple countries in the room.

Prussia was still frozen, but his lips were turned up again, no longer betrayed. Germany… China… Japan… they all held unused weapons… He would deal with them later, or let Prussia have some fun.

But right now, he wanted an easy target. One that would upset the others. They needed pain in their lives. They needed to learn. They needed to learn how to lose someone they love… before they too died.

His eyes found what they were looking for.

The nation was very close to the front, eyes wide, and shaking in fear. He could barely keep the gun in his fingers.

"Hehe…" Canada laughed, stumbling forward. He lifted his gun, grinning madly. A bullet whizzed past his him, missing by a few inches.

"Don't go near him," Spain threatened, holding his gun in trembling hands.

Canada raised a bloody eyebrow, and pointed the gun at a horrified Italy.

"And I suppose you are going to stop me?" He mocked, moving his finger towards the trigger. "I'd like to see you try."

These words set off a chain reaction; just what he had been hoping for.

Spain let out an angry growl and shot at him again. The bullet once again barely missed, but this time, Prussia defended him.

Spain fell over as the bullets hit him over and over again in the chest. Prussia approached the body with mounting disgust. But Spain still lived. He looked up at Prussia, his eyes full of anger, sadness and betrayal. "Why, Gilbert?"

Prussia just glared at him emotionlessly. "Because you abandoned me too… After I lost my status as a nation."

Then the final shot came, ending Spain's life.

"S-SPAIN!"

The cry had come from the door. More nations had spilled into the room, led by Romano, who stared at the scene in horror.

"A-Antonio! Toni! Spain!" The Italian leaped towards the body. His eyes were wide at the sight of blood, tears gathering in the corners. He knelt down beside Spain, frantically shaking him and pleading, begging. "T-Toni! W-Why?"

Romano suddenly abandoned his mission, standing up and swinging to face Prussia and Canada.

"Y-YOU! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU BASTARDS! I'LL KILL YOU!" The Italian hurled himself towards Canada, prepared to shoot. Canada just stood calmly, staring at the berserk boy. Prussia swore and lifted his gun.

A gunshot rang through the room. The Italian fell to the ground, bleeding from a wound directly to the head. Silence rang through the room before a voice spoke from the dark hallways.

"Sorry I am late, Matvey," Russia said, stepping into the room. He too was covered head to toe in blood, and wore a small smile on his face. "The Baltics weren't hard to take care of. Bela and Ukraine put up a fight."

Canada rolled his head around and grinned at the Nation. "I'm just glad you could make it, Ivan."

At that moment, the Nations, now with much more back up, seemed to snap out of their horrified daze. Launching forward, the bloody war began.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canada kicked yet another body aside. It was impossible to tell who it was exactly; there was far too much blood covering the features. Not that he cared in the least. Right now his narrowed eyes were set on the only country that remained alive, that wasn't him or his comrades.

He had fought well; until the end, unlike the other countries who were weak in comparison. But even the oldest and most powerful nation would not stand against him. Against his revenge. He, like the others would fall.

China struggled to stand as he approached, glaring defiantly. He was not afraid to die, unlike the others. China was not afraid of him. His lack of fear made Canada angry.

The room was deathly silent as Canada stopped in front of China, glaring at the older nation with complete and utter hate. Canada could hear Russia approaching from behind. His footsteps were heavier than Prussia's.

"How could you-?" China was cut off as Canada hit him sharply across the face. China did not lose his determination. "You do not have to do this, aru! You have no idea what you have done!"

Canada clenched his fists, and straightened up, but did not take his eyes off of the Asian nation.

"It doesn't matter," Canada whispered, China almost didn't hear. "They are all gone now… forever."

China's eyes softened as he gazed at the angry boy – to him, practically a child – with sadness. He was blinded by betrayal and anger and now the heavy loss that he himself had inflicted, weighing heavy on his subconciousness. "Canada… They will never be gone from this world, aru."

Canada snarled, lunging forward, but was stopped by cold arms closing in around his waist.

"Sorry Comrade Matvey… " The maddening voice made him freeze, but his eyes still burned in fury. The icy arms did nothing to sooth his anger. The man behind him only irked the insane nation further as he rested his head on his shoulder. The smell of Vodka and blood mixed together filled his nose when Russia spoke. "Do not listen to him, Matvey."

Canada found himself testing his restraint further as the Russian's fingers began to twirl his hair.

China was silent, staring at the scene, and still struggling to stand. Poor Canada. He had no idea what he was putting himself through. No matter how lost Canada had become, the true Canada had to be in there somewhere.

"Canada. I am disappointed that you have turned down this path," China began softly, staring directly at Canada. "But not in you, aru. It was never your fault. The fault is ours."

Canada let out an angry hiss. He had true power now, and China was fearful. His anger for the Asian nation just grew.

Russia, with a quick kiss on Canada's cheek, stepped away from him. Canada felt a rush of relief. No matter how useful he was… The Russian nation walked over to a section dedicated to Chinese weapons, before almost happily selecting a long bladed weapon with a hook at the end.

"One of your weapons, da?" Russia asked as he stood in front of China, glaring at the nation he once loved. But the feelings were unreciprocated. And now, standing before his kneeling form, Russia was sure that those feeling no longer remained. Instead, all he could feel, all he could think, was how much he completely hated, despised, and absolutely loathed the nation.

Canada took a step back from the two nations. From the corner of his eye, he could see Prussia approaching almost silently, and waited for the larger, warm hand to slide into his. His eyes never left the scene in front of him.

China remained strong, though he had given up trying to stand. Instead he knelt on the ground, staring at Canada. China seemed determined to ignore Russia. That or he was truly trying to get through to Canada.

"Canada, you must understand-!" China looked almost pleading, and a small smile appeared on Canada's face. China was finally beginning to fear his death! He wanted to be spared. "I don't know if you've gone that far, Ar-!"

Russia cut him off with a sudden slice across the chest, using the end of weapon. He was testing it. It was nothing like his iron pipe. It was lighter and twice as dangerous.

"Your people make good weapons," Russia said, running his finger against the flat edge of the blade. "Light… Efficient… Deadly… Shuang Gou."

He swung once more, leaving a deeper, more life threatening slice. Russia only smiled coldly as China clutched his chest, blood gushing from between his fingers.

"C-Canada…" China's body racked with his coughs. Blood was dribbling down his chin. "T-There is no going back now. You think it's over as soon as you kill me. But it will never be over. He will always want more, aru. The monster inside of you – he is not you – he will always want more."

Canada just glared, and tightened his grip on Prussia's hand. China didn't understand! China wasn't trying to understand! China was trying to get to him, trying to save himself.

"Matthew…" Canada froze at his true name being uttered. It was so soft, Canada wasn't sure if Prussia could have heard it. Or Russia. "I am truly sorry."

Every thought Canada had suddenly disappeared. His glare faded into blankness. He couldn't respond, but he numbly felt Prussia's grip tighten around him.

The oldest nation closed his eyes facing Russia. He wasn't afraid of death. He would not bow his head, because he was not defeated. Through his coughing, he was trying to keep his breath even, and calm. "Ivan."

Russia gave an angry cry, and blindly slashed at the sound of his human name. China did not wince as the blade nearly took off his arm. Instead, he just smiled, his face distorted with the blood covering it, though obviously full of pain. "Russia."

Russia yelled again, bringing the blade down on China's leg, this time more in frustration. Russia growled, "Shut up!"

China opened his eyes, gazing directly into Russia's. Deep down he knew that he would always love those eyes, no matter how cold they were. "Ivan? You forgot something important, years ago, aru."

Russia narrowed his eyes at the nation, clutching the weapon in his hands firmer. "Da?"

China felt a tear slip down his cheek, mingling with the blood, and cursed himself internally. "You forgot to tell me you loved me. You know, I love you too."

The words triggered something in Canada. He opened his mouth to speak as Russia lifted the Chinese weapon. He opened his mouth to speak, to stop Russia, to question China, but no words came out. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut as Russia drove the end of the blade straight through the Ancient nation's chest. It was the first time that night he did not want to see the murder happen.

Silence rang through the air as China's breath came to a complete stop. Then, the blade was pulled out of the lifeless body, along with gushes of blood. The sound of metal ringing off the floor rang through the air and Canada heard Russia's heavy footsteps moving closer towards him.

"Matvey… We are alone now," Russia announced. Canada opened his eyes as Prussia cleared his throat behind him. Both men were glaring at each other over his head.

"L-Let's go…" Canada muttered shakily. "I want to get out of here."

Canada tried to ignore the Russian nation as he gave him a quick kiss and headed for the door.

"I hate him… Why the hell'd you bring him into this?" Prussia hissed angrily, before to heading to the door, dragging Canada behind him. "If he touches you one more time, I'm going to kill him."

Canada knew he wasn't joking, but he didn't care enough to argue with Prussia; Russia was just a bother, no matter how much help he was. Was. He was not really much use to them now. His gut twisted in guilt. Why was he feeling like this? His thoughts were jumbled and confused. Doubt… worries… It was his monster, fighting with him. That's what China would say. But why should he let China's words affect him? China knew nothing.

Outside, Russia waited for them, frowning slightly when he saw Canada holding onto Prussia. Forcing back all remaining uncertainty, Canada smiled coldly at Russia. The monster escaped.

"Good job…" Canada admired, staring at the mangled body of Belarus and Ukraine beside them. They certainly put up a fight, and Russia did not give them an easy time, judging from how many cuts laced their skin. Speaking of cuts… Canada had not realized how much his back hurt until now… "No wonder you were nearly late."

Russia smiled at the praise, like an excitable, loyal puppy.

"As unfortunate as it is…" Canada drawled, "I suppose you are no longer useful."

Canada could tell Prussia's expression was full of joy at his words. Russia's, however, had fallen into one of confusion. Of course it would. Russia was actually oblivious enough to think that Canada wanted him to be there. Russia wanted to be needed, and Canada had simply taken the opportunity that he couldn't walk away from.

Now the monster inside of him wanted more. No. China was wrong. He wanted more. And after Russia was gone, it would truly be over. He would have no reason to want to kill, to see blood. It would only be him, Prussia, and their innocent people.

Canada lifted his gun. One bullet left… And he would only need one to finish this. Only one more shot would mark the end of the bloodshed. It would be the end of his need to kill. Canada fingered the trigger, taking in Russia's cheated and angry expression as what he said sunk in. His stance sliding into one prepared to fight, Russia's eyes narrowed at the pair, the pain of the betrayal clear in his eyes.

His fingers froze at the trigger. Russia was nothing… Not now… He could join the other nations in Hell. Or wherever nations went when they died. But why did he feel…

No. He wouldn't let this take him over. He was powerful now. He had everything he needed.

But he lowered the gun, almost subconsciously. He couldn't do it… After he had come this far… how could he not finish it?

He barely noticed Prussia launching forward with his bloodthirsty grin, his knife at the ready. He was to lost in his own thoughts to hear Russia's cry of betrayal and pain. And then, all he could see was crimson as Russia joined his sisters on the stained vinyl floor.

He was distantly aware of Prussia dropping his knife, or maybe throwing it away, no longer needing it. And stumbling drunkly towards him. And holding him, his warmth a strange type of comfort. A light kiss on the forehead…

Canada seemed to snap out of it when Prussia finally stepped back. With the warmth of the older nation gone, Canada shivered, though it was not the least bit cold.

"Let's go see our new world," Prussia said with a smirk, intertwining his fingers with Canada and tugging him lightly towards the stairs. Towards the exit.

Canada was thankful. The monster had withdrawn once more, leaving Canada sickened at the sight of the Baltics piled in a bloody heap. His back throbbed, but it was almost nice. It certainly kept him more aware than if the pain was absent. The smell of his blood, along with others in the building, filled his nose and drove him insane.

The building was empty, and Canada felt quite similar. Everything in him was dead. Everything, it seemed, except his hand that held onto Prussia's for dear life, and his mind, thoughts going a mile a minute.

They finally reached the door, leading to the outside world. The world that was now theirs alone. There would be no one to stop them. The humans would not revolt. There would be no need to. Still, Canada paused, holding off the moment for as long as possible. Prussia froze almost instantly when Canada stilled, turning and staring carefully at the blonde.

Canada avoided the red eyes, instead choosing to scan the room.

Compared to other rooms, the lobby was immaculately cleaned. Only a small trail of drying blood was left from their footsteps.

"Matthew…?" Prussia's voice was soft. It held more care and gentleness than it had all night. "It's over. It is really over."

"China…" Canada hadn't meant to say it, but it slipped out anyway. Prussia's eyes narrowed in anger and concern.

"Don't listen to that idiot," Prussia growled, grabbing at Canada's shoulders, and instantly retracting as Canada hissed in pain. His voice dropped to a tender whisper. "Don't listen to him please. He lied. It is only you and me now. The others are, and always will be gone. Don't bug yourself."

Canada stood silently for a few moments, China's words ringing in his head.

"Canada… They will never be gone from this world, aru."

Never gone… They will always be there… they are nations after all…

"Canada. I am disappointed that you have turned down this path. But not in you, aru. It was never your fault. The fault is ours."

They – those who ignored him – had turned him into this… When had it gotten this far… No, he was himself. China lied.

"There is no going back now. You think it's over as soon as you kill me. But it will never be over. He will always want more, aru. The monster inside of you – he is not you – he will always want more."

Every drop of blood spilled… Every scream he had heard… Every life he took. The monster got stronger… Did he really… It should be over, but how could he contain this monster? This monster that still wanted more… and there was no more to take…

"Matthew… I'm sorry."

Canada finally looked up at Prussia, nodding almost hesitantly. Prussia smiled. How he loved his little Canada…

"Prussia… Don't let go of my hand… okay?"

It was an odd request, Prussia figured, but nodded his head.

"Sure," He replied with a smile, lifting Canada's hand and kissing it softly.

Canada stared at their intertwined hands. It was those callused, strong hands that were holding him down right now. Prussia was his haven, his survival. Because he could not ignore the truth in China's words without Prussia holding on.

Canada pushed the door opened and slipped out into the light of dawn.

And he was free. The smell of morning dew on grass filled his nose, replacing the blood, as he gazed at the crimson sky.

"Our world, Birdie," Prussia announced, staring at the buildings around them, eyes lit up and a relaxed smile on his face. "We are free."

Canada frowned slightly as he was tugged towards the street. There was no direction. There was no need for a direction or a goal. They were free. They had all the time in the world. They were the world.

Though the morning was not particularly cold, Canada could not stop the shiver that ran down his spine.

The building behind him… He never had to come back. He could leave this place forever. He never had to come back. He could burn this building, with all the memories…

The monster roared in the back of his consciousness.

The blood... The screams... The tears and killing… China was right. It had all come down to wanting more…

He had lost connection with the monster inside him. Only minutes ago, he and the monster had shared the goal but now…

China was right. The monster wanted more. Not him. He had no more reason to want the bloodshed. There was no one else to kill. No one stood in his way to happiness any longer.

But even as he thought this, memories from long ago began to fill his sight.

Beside him stood America, as young as when they had first met. The young nation clutched as his bloodied pants, childishly smiling and peeking out at the end of the road. Looking up, Canada saw England, smiling at him with a knowing smile.

"Oh my… where could Alfred be…?" England asked the two of them, as if Canada was just a young boy like the one beside him. Canada heard America give a giggle, and briefly remembered the times when America depended on him. When America was not a hero, but a young child who adored his brother. The young boy looked up at him, a large smile donning his face, and placed a finger on his lips.

"He won't see me here! Mattie will protect me!" The boy whispered.

Guilt bubbled up in his stomach. Did he really deserve to be here? After what he had done to his family… After what he had done to everyone… How come he still wanted to kill… He still had one bullet.

Canada attempted to block out these thoughts, instead focusing on Prussia's hand. Attempting.

He could not ignore England's calls and America's giggles. They rang through his head as he remembered the days when he was truly loved… but had that love ever gone away?

"Bonjour, Mon Cheri."

It was at the sound of France's voice that finally set him off the edge. Swinging around almost violently, Canada pulled himself from Prussia's grip.

Ignoring the blonde child's cry in fear, Canada lifted the gun to his forehead, glaring at the four people –three of which were simple memories – who loved him most.

"This is what you want…" Canada muttered, sounding oddly calm. "This is what you all want. It's what he wants to… I think it's what I want."

"Matthew," Prussia warned, attempting to take a step back. Canada's panicked eyes only flickered over him briefly before landing on the ground next to him. "Matthew, please…"

Canada just stared blankly, his eyes beginning to water slightly.

"No… It is what I need to do… To truly end it…" Canada shook his head, before smiling slightly. "Love you all…"

The shout of pure panic and loss that followed soon after was easily drowned out by the bullet shot that echoed through the morning air.

"Nnn…"

He heard a sigh of relief above him before a familiar voice practically yelled, "Wake up!"

"Oww…"

He brought his hand up to his head, distantly aware of the throbbing that filled his entire body. Every word the man above him spoke echoed in his head painfully.

"Let me sleep…" He muttered softly.

"Stupid oaf! Get up!" The voice above him bordered on panic.

"Iggy… It can't be latter that 6… A…M… Oh my God!" America sat up almost instantly, he eyes wide with horror, as his memories from the night before suddenly returned. "M-Matthew… killed you… killed me… But… We aren't d-dead?"

He stared at England intently, to worried to notice the faint blush that covered his father figures face. "I don't understand either, but we should look for the others. I don't know what happened to C-Canada, but…"

America followed England's eyes to where the wall read "Remember me" in dried blood. Even though Canada had done this to them… They had never tried to understand him… The concern in England's eyes reminded Alfred of the time Matthew had fallen out of a tree when they were younger.

"I want to know why he did it…" England murmured, slowing and shakily standing up. "And why we are alive. I mean, I did get shot through the head."

He held out a hand for America, but he simply pushed himself up and slid an arm around England, proving the support the British man would not usually admit to needing. England did not push him away, but instead leant on him thankfully.

"Y-You're worse than I am…" America muttered, before heading down the hallway. He did not see the older man blush.

They walked, both breathing rather heavily from their still healing injuries.

Turning a corner, they froze in their tracks. England broke away from America to empty his stomach. But America could not tear his eyes away from the horrifying sight before him.

"They'll wake up…" Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, trying to convince himself, "We did. They will."

He attempted to tug a shivering and pale England to his feet.

"C'mon…" America mumbled, "We have to find someone…"

England reluctantly rose to his feet.

"W-World history…" England managed to cough out, rubbing his neck nervously. This cleared away blood and sweat, giving America the view of a puckered and angry, Still-healing scar where the bullet had pierced his skin and led to his temporary death.

America nodded gravely, subconsciously wondering about his own scars and how they looked beneath his torn shirt and dried blood. Yet at the same time, he did not want to see the marks inflicted on him by his brother. Hell, he wasn't sure he could face his brother – if he was still alive. What do you say to the man you grew up with thinking of him as a brother and a best friend, when he had just attempted to kill you?

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sight – and smell – of the torn and shredded bodies of the previously soviet union. It couldn't get much worse, or so America, until he pushed open the door to the world history room.

For a moment he could not move, too frozen in shock. Unable to support himself, let alone England, America suddenly sunk to his knees. He had been in wars, he had seen losses and destruction, but this? At least a hundred countries, maybe more, were spread over the large hall. Shot, sliced, stabbed, tortured, all brutally murdered.

How two people – one being his supposedly sweet, innocent brother – had done this, he did not know.

A gasp drew America from his thoughts. Following the Brit's eyes, the sight of France – only recognizable by his wide, glassy blue eyes – sprawled across the flood, eyes staring at the ceiling, unseeingly.

"Fr-Franc…" America heard the British man gasp, climbing breathlessly to his feet, and wobbling towards the fallen Nation. "Francis…"

America closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the smell of death that filled the room. He could not stop his legs from shaking as he followed England.

"C-C'mon, you bloody frog…"

America had never felt so helpless in his life. He had never seen this man – who was practically his father – look this weak and helpless. And as he looked around at the torn bodies of his friends, allies, and even enemies, America felt guilt twist at his insides. He did not stop Canada. He could have, maybe, years ago, but he didn't. They would come back – he did – but they would remember it. And when Canada and Prussia were found… They would not understand. He himself did not quite understand it but… His brother had been hurting a long time… This had simply opened his eyes up.

"Bloody hell, wake up!"

America thought he could hear tears in his voice and quickly glanced at the man only to confirm it. The man was shaking the French nation almost violently but the he remained motionless. America could see a thin, yet rough scar running along his neck like it had been sliced off.

"What if he doesn't wake up!" If England was panicking before, it was nothing to how he sounded now.

"He will." Was all America could think to say. He wouldn't dare let his mind stray to the possibility that- "He will. We did."

"What if we just a fluke? What if it's only us?"

"You got shot through the fucking skull, England. How the hell could you consider that a fluke?"

"B-but…" America had never seen him look so lost. It hurt.

"They will all be fine. We can find Canada and-" He lost what he was trying to say. What would they do when they found Canada? Lock him up for instability? No matter what he had done, deep down, he was still the boy America grew up with. America, for one, knew he would be unable to watch the man rot away in some mental hospital or prison. Now when part of it was he fault. And England and France's.

Now that he thought of it, Prussia was the only one who had always noticed Canada. It was no wonder Canada had been so influenced. If only he had noticed earlier. "They'll be fine…"

A gasp of breath shook him from his thoughts. France's chest rose and sank with uneven, choppy breaths as his lungs ached for more oxygen. As England sighed in relief, America could hear gasps of frantic breaths from other areas in the room.

Germany was up next, even before France had regained consciousness. He had sent a worried, confused look at America before nodding and scanning the room. He quickly picked out Italy and shook him awake gently.

The nation had instantly began to cry and clutch at Germany's bloody clothing.

Both France and Japan woke at the same time shortly later. Italy threw himself at Japan, and for once, Japan did not flinch or jump away. Instead, he wrapped one arm comfortingly around the distraught nation.

Out of all the nations, America knew him and Germany were in similar situations. Both had been murdered by their kin, after growing up knowing nothing but adoration for their siblings… which, in Germany's case, had turned into bitterness. He knew that Germany would accept hit brothers fate, something America couldn't do.

More nations were rapidly gaining consciousness. Before long, at least half the nations had joined them. America, Germany, France and England had been strong enough to collect the Soviet's, who were just beginning to wake up under France's careful watch. Russia and China remained lifeless.

"We have to… We have to find Canada…" It was meant to be whispered to England and France, but it echoed through the suddenly quiet hall. "… And Prussia… Is anyone else strong enough?"

Though hesitantly, they managed to make three groups.

The first consisting of France, England, America, and Cuba; the second, Germany, Austria, Japan, and Italy; and the third Spain, Romano, Belgium and Netherlands. The remaining nations would remain to watch over the waking nations.

Guessing, but not 100% sure that Canada had left the building, America, England, Cuba and France decided that they would leave the building to get help and begin the search while the second group searched the lower half of the building.

However, all plans were abandoned the moment they heard the sound of a gun echoing from outside. America turned to share a quick look with England before all three groups bolted down the stairs, America in the lead.

Throwing open the doors, he nearly froze at what he saw. Only feet away from the door, Canada lay on the grass, which was covered in fresh blood. Canada's blood.

England reached out to hold America back, but he was already running towards the bloodied form form of his brother. America dropped down opposite of Prussia, ignoring that nation that now stared at him wide eyed and shocked.

"M-Matthew…" It was so easy to forget what he had done as he laid there, a clean hole through the side of his head like a blood covered halo. His eyes were closed peacefully and he had a pained yet happy smile on his face. "Oh God… Matthew…"

He could tell without looking that England had buried his face in France's chest, but both were on the edge of crying. And Hell, no matter what he had done… He was their bloody son!

"He'll wake up… He'll come back…" America whispered and reached over the body as if to pick Canada up.

"D-don't touch him…" Gilbert's voice shook as through he was talking to a ghost. Because surely he was imagining this. Everyone – America, France, Italy, Romano, Japan… Germany… They were all dead… so what was going on? "Th-This isn't real."

America just narrowed his eyes, but otherwise ignored the man.

"Don't touch him!" The panicked scream rang through the air as Prussia tried to swat away America's and… He was just a hallucination… Canada was gone, lost like the rest of the world… He was Alone…

In fear and desperation, Prussia placed his hand on Canada's cheek, but only felt cold. Leaning over, he placed his forehead against Canada's, breathing heavy as the tears began to fall. The tears fell and rolled down Canada's face, but there was no sign of movement from the body.

"Canada… Matthew… Oh god… why… Mattie…"

His fingers clutched at the neatly trimmed grass as he cried.

How long this went on, no one was sure, but the group was frozen in shock and awe at the complete loss and despair that emitted from Prussia in waved. In the occasional moment he opened his eyes, everyone could see the softness in his eyes before he clamped them shut once more.

Even America, who longed to lunge at the hysterical man, remained still. Prussia had no right to cry, no right to mourn. Not when it was his fault.

If – when (why was he doubting this…?) – Canada woke up… he would not be able to bare the punishment that awaited Canada. How would Canada handle it? Or France and England?

And all he could do was sit there, blaming the man who was surely the cause.

Canada had been corrupted and changed by Prussia. It was all his fault.

They did not hear the silent footsteps as he approached, but everyone heard China's soft whisper, "He will not come back."

The words sunk in slowly, as many nations were still focused on the sight before them, but as they sunk in, America felt something inside him snap.

Launching himself at the German ex-nation, knotting one hand in the collar of the man's shirt as the rolled across the grass. It was when they came to a stop with America on top and the first punches were landed that Prussia realized America was really alive. And America knew Prussia knew this. The flurry of punches and kicked were only broken when England and France reluctantly pulled America away.

Germany lifted his brother to his feet, but with no care in his actions. Prussia hung his head in defeat, his nose broken and bleeding along with a few other gashes on his face from America's assault.

Unlike Prussia, America struggled in his families grasp but when he could not escape, he began shouting angrily.

"You bastard! This is your fault! It's your fault he's dead! It's your fault all this happened, you bastard! You did this!"

Prussia finally looked up, anger shining through the loss in his eyes.

"All I did," He hissed, "Was be there for him. All I did was love him. What did you do?"

His response muted the America whose mouth dropped open as the truth of the words set in.

"You- You're his brother! He grew up adoring you and the rest of his family! But you wouldn't even remember his name." Gilbert spat out a mouthful of blood that had spilled into his mouth. "All he wanted was for you to love him, to care about him. You have no idea how much you have hurt him. I don't know why you're alive, but-"

He was cut off as China once again made his presence known.

"A nation cannot kill another nation." Prussia turned wide red eyes on the Chinese nation. "Take his status as a nation, nurture him, imprison him, but you cannot kill him. As soon as his heart stops, the body will begin to heal itself. If significant damage is done – like brain wounds-," China sent a glance at Germany, who looked rather startled, "Memories may be lost."

"Then Canada-," America intercepted quickly.

"If a nation is successful at taking his own life…" China let out a heavy, unhappy sigh. "It is the only way to kill a nation."

Silence filled the air. America felt his breath catch in his throat. Canada would never get a second chance…

And there was no one to blame except himself. Even though he knew he couldn't just blame himself – but he couldn't help it. What kind of hero was he? He allowed all of this to happen. At the very least, he had done nothing to prevent it.

These thoughts were cut off as a cry cut through the air. A cry filled with so much pain, so much despair… and on the edge of desperation. His eyes instantly found Prussia.

The Albino looked completely lost, tears running down his face as he struggled against Germany and Japan.

"This- this is wrong," He half-hissed, half-panted, "You should be dead!"

Finally breaking free of Japan's grip and sending him towards the ground, Prussia used Germany's shock to throw him off and onto Japan's frozen form. The two became tangled as Prussia hurled himself at Canada's body.

"He deserves to live! Out of any of you! You should be dead! All of you!"

Prussia glared at them evenly, tears not at all ruining the effect.

"This is your fault."

America could not help but feel these words were aimed at him, even as the red eyes passed over him, onto the rest of the nations, and finally landing on Canada. Tenderly, the Germanic Ex-Nation pulled the younger boy into his lap, allowing Canada's head to rest limply against his chest.

Before anyone could tell or process what was happening, Prussia procured a knife from God-Knows-Where.

"I-It's m-my fault too…" Prussia said these words so softly, no one could be sure he had actually said them. "I'm sorry, Matthew…"

No one was fast enough to stop him as Prussia plunged the knife into his neck. His eyes widened in pain and blood splashed out of the wound. A low, guttural sound echoed from his throat, followed by a flood of blood before his eyes closed and he fell backwards. And even as he died, one arm remained wrapped around Canada.

America fell to his knees, his mouth open in horror. But there was no way he could un-see what he had just witnessed. Even as he clamped his eyes shut, like many of the nations behind him, the image seemed burned into the back of his head. Never in his life would he forget again. Not like he had before. It was too late now. Too late for apologies, too late for forgiveness, too late to truly understand what Canada had gone through in the last how many years.

But he would never forget the name of the shadows that now lay dead a few feet away. The shadow that now is only what was, and could never be. The shadows that now, stained with the blood of many, was finally seen in the light of the rising sun.


End file.
